Jack Harkaways Boy Tinker Among The Turks | Page 8

him the glass.
The sick man gulped it down, and made a wry face.
"How bitter it tastes," he said, with a shudder.

"Good-night, señor."
"Good-night."
* * * *
Chivey did not remain very long absent.
The heavy breathing of the notary soon told him that it was safe to
return to the room.
The business of the morrow so filled the mind of the old Spaniard, that
he was talking of it in his sleep.
"At an hour after daybreak, I tell you, Murray," he muttered. "The berth
is paid for, paid for by my gold. You follow on the track of your enemy
Harkaway, and once you are within reach, give a sharp, sure stroke, and
you will be free from your only enemy, seeing that you have already
taken good care of your traitor servant."
Chivey was amazed, electrified.
Did he hear aright?
"At daybreak!" he exclaimed, aloud.
"Yes; at daybreak," returned the notary in his sleep.
After a pause, the sleeper muttered--
"What say you? If Chivey were not quite dead? What of that? How
could he follow you? He has no funds. The only money he possessed I
have now in my strong box under my bed."
Chivey was staggered.
"Is Murray going to bolt, and leave me in the power of this old villain, I
wonder," he muttered.

He broke off in his speculations, for the notary was babbling something
again.
"'The Mogador,'" muttered the old man, speaking more thickly than
before as the opiate began to make itself felt; "the captain is called
Gonzales. You have only to mention the name of Señor Velasquez, and
he will treat you well. He knows me."
He muttered a few more words which grew more and more incoherent
each instant.
Then he lay back motionless as a log.
The opium held him fast in its power.
"Now for the box," exclaimed the tiger, excitedly.
Chivey tore open the box, and lifting up some musty old deeds and
parchments, he feasted his eyes upon a mine of wealth.
A pile of gold.
Bright glittering pieces of every size and country.
And beside it thick bundles of paper money.
"Gold is uncommonly pretty," said the tiger, "but the notes packs the
closest."
Bundle after bundle he stowed away about his person, regularly
padding his chest under his shirt.
"Now for a trifle of loose cash," he said, coolly.
So saying, he dropped about sixty or seventy gold pieces into his
breeches pocket.
His waistcoat pockets he stuffed full also.

Then he pushed back the box into its place under the bed.
"The old man still sleeps," he said to himself, looking round at the bed.
He was in a rare good humour with himself.
"Ha, ha! I am rich now," said Chivey. "Thank you, old señor, you have
done me a good turn. May you sleep long."
He gave a final glance about him and made off.
* * * *
A distant church clock tolled the hour of midnight as he gained the
seashore.
He was in luck.
Not a soul did he encounter until he reached the beach, when he came
upon two sailors, launching a rowing boat.
"'Mogador?'" he said, in a tone of inquiry.
"Si, señor."
"That's your sort," said Chivey. "I want to see Captain Gonzales."
"Come with us, then," said one of the sailors.
"Rather," responded the tiger; "off we dive; whip 'em up, tickle him
under the flank, and we're there in a common canter."
The sailors both understood a little of English.
In very little time they were standing on the deck of the "Mogador."
And facing Chivey as he scrambled up the side, was the master of the
ship, Captain Gonzales, to whom Chivey was presented at once by one
of the sailors.

"Señor Velasquez has sent me to you, captain," said the ever ready
tiger.
"Then you are welcome."
"He told me to give you that," said Chivey, handing the captain a pair
of banknotes; "and to beg you to give me the best of accommodation in
a cabin all to myself."
"It shall be done."
"And above all not to let Mr. Murray know of my presence on board
when he comes."
"Good."
"I am going on very important business for Señor Velasquez, captain,"
pursued Chivey, with infinite assurance; "as you may judge, for he
values your care of me at one hundred crowns to be paid on your next
visit here."
"Rely upon my uttermost assistance."
"Thank you," said Chivey, with a patronising smile; "and now I'll be
obliged to you to show me to my berth."
"Here," cried the Spanish captain. "Pedro--Juan--Lopez. Take this
gentleman to my private cabin."
The "Mogador" stood out to sea bravely enough.
Chivey was there.
Herbert Murray was there.
But the latter little